Total Eclipse
by precious-passenger
Summary: Kurt is spiraling down in depression once he transfers to Dalton. What can be done to save the boy who doesn't want to be saved. Triggers for dark, depressing and suicidal thoughts. Complete
1. Chapter 1

It was a sleepless night like any other. Kurt could bet every other Dalton student was either studying or sleeping, like a good, normal human being. But not him, never him.

He wanted so bad to pick up his phone and call Blaine. Ask him to come over to his room, the curfew blown in the wind and just…be there. Protect him from himself. But, he can't ask that. He'd asked that way too many times now. And Blaine has an exam tomorrow that unlike Kurt he cares about.

He didn't need Blaine. This time Kurt was too proud to whore himself out in front of him, talking about his deepest fears, only to have a gentle squeeze in the leg and a casual "hang in there, buddy". He was seeking a cure nobody was able to provide, not even the dapper boy Blaine.

Kurt doesn't remember how things turned out like this. Struggling each night and drowning in his thoughts. It just _was_.

Thoughts just kept coming. Of how much he needed help and maybe the reason he wasn't getting it was the fact that he didn't really deserve it. Because, let's face it. There wasn't any reason he deserved it. He was a lonely gay kid in Ohio, a forsaken shit-hole town. He was nothing compared to all that was out there. He was nothing. All his problems meant nothing. Now, why didn't it bring him the joy it probably should? Didn't it mean that he should enjoy his nothingness, his life, no _existence,_ while it lasted?

Life had been easy the past month, with transferring to Dalton and leaving McKinley. The exams and blending in with the Warblers were the only things he had to worry about for now. His bruised back would heal, but Kurt didn't have the same hope for the scars in his soul. He was broken beyond repair. Maybe he never was really fixed to begin with.

His eyes burned for the tears that didn't come. Tears that he didn't allow them to come. He was tired of crying or maybe he was too tired to cry.

Kurt wasn't in the mood for any music, nor did movies or a shower interest him. He didn't want distraction from the pain inside. He wanted to burn.

He wanted to burn so so bad, he thought, flicking on his lighter and drawing it near his other finger and holding it on for some seconds. His eyes mesmerized by the scene unfolding in front of him. It reminded him of the many taunts he heard of the bullies or sometimes casual pedestrians that he'd offended merely by his existence. They would tell him he was going to burn in hell. Well, bring it on. Hell was probably better than what he felt right now. Helpless and insignificant.

_Don't even open that can of worms._

He repeated the action for some time until it gave him a dull numbing pain in his fingers, then hand and then forearm. The pain made his thought process slower and therefore made thinking a tough action. A losing battle.

Kurt smirked to himself. He was never going to be brave enough to pour gasoline all over himself and set it on fire, was he?


	2. Chapter 2

It started out like any other day at McKinley. A few shoves to the locker, playful for them and painful for him. But, Kurt was walking through a daze. He had his headphones on and was walking toward his next class when Ms. Pillsbury stopped him. Before he knew it, he had a pass to skip the next lesson and the councilor was looking at him with her large, worried eyes. Kurt fixed his gaze on her pristine outfit and ironed fluffy bow. Strange, the weird fashion taste Ms. Pillsbury had no longer irritated him.

That's when Emma started talking. About how his grades were slipping and if there's something wrong at home or school and Kurt wanted to laugh, like, really laugh at that question. Of course something was wrong. Nothing was right anymore. Between the stress of his dad's stroke and the bullying at school, he could barely concentrate. He was relying on painkillers to make him sleep. Sometimes downing about three of them.

Seeing Emma's concerned gaze broke something inside Kurt. He wanted, for so long, for somebody to see. When he told her how bad things were lately, her eyes widened comically and her mouth hung open. Then she instructed to go straight home and get himself an appointment from a psychiatrist friend of hers.

That was two months ago. Two months of weekly appointments and endless talking, more talking than Kurt was ever used to. Two months since Kurt was officially on medication. He could never forget that day the therapist told him it would be better if he tried some antidepressants.

Kurt should've known better to say what really was on his mind, that how his days had been so so empty and how everything that used to bring him a sense of happiness and accomplishment now seemed pointless. Because that was what got him into a shit load of medication.

Kurt didn't mention the first thing he did after getting the pills was to research what would happen if he overdosed on them. He was disappointed to find out except seizures, nothing. Granted, the pills made him relaxed, but when the effects wore off, he still felt like shit, even more than he did before.

A month passed and he had his dosage of pills doubled. After another month it was tripled from the original prescription. If Kurt was honest with himself what made him give up on pills was the moment the therapist told him he'd be on this treatment for about two years. The truth was he didn't have hope to live through next day. He didn't have hope to turn seventeen. Being alive and being twenty years old was something that couldn't register in his mind anymore. Gone were all his ambitions and dreams of escaping this city and move out to somewhere better. Because there was no better. Not when he was the main problem. He couldn't live with himself anymore, no matter how balanced his brain chemicals would be.

He wanted to die, simple as that. It wasn't a one day teenage drama or the result of a bad day. It was accumulated through years of staying silent and watching as people walked all over him.

So, he stopped going to therapy. He researched how to get off his meds and by three months he was clean. That's when he met Blaine. Sweet, caring Blaine that with one word broke through Kurt's stupor and left him undone. Blaine, whose never ending happiness, warmth and support left Kurt gasping like a fish out of the water for more.

For a while Blaine made everything better. He confronted Karofsky, and when push came to shove and the situation turned out of control supported Kurt's transfer to Dalton. He was there for Kurt, always. But, now, Kurt didn't feel deserving of such attention. He could feel himself becoming a burden to Blaine and he didn't want that. Not now that every night was a fight for surviving another day. Another day of never ending pain and darkness.

So, Kurt drove him away. He drove everyone away. He locked himself in his dorm room with nothing to keep him company but the furniture and his less than cheerful thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Do I enjoy writing these small drabbles? Hell no. Do I need them to get published? Meh. Honestly, I write them when I'm feeling really really bad and something tells me I need to have them gathered up somewhere.

* * *

The truth was, sometimes Kurt forgot. That he was really, truly screwed up. Sometimes he even laughed, and sometimes the laughter didn't seemed to be forced or fake. He'd allow Blaine to drape an arm across his shoulder and lead him towards Warblers practice.

But then, it would hit him full force. Usually it would be in the middle of a witty comeback that he would be reminded that all of this is just a pretense and he would fall silent and hang his head down in shame, because he was weak...no, not only weak, but a failure.

He wasn't fortunate enough to be depressed 24/7. It also wasn't a job he could assign certain hours to so he could go to sleep without the crushing weight on his shoulders. Crushing weight of living.

He allowed himself to lie back on the bed. He couldn't help but notice the shaking. Why was he shaking? He asked himself. Was it withdrawal from the medication…or himself? He felt the tears streaming down his face, almost emotionlessly and realized he was just so tired…tired of thinking, tired of being. His eyes burned and he let the tears fall. He couldn't feel the pain behind it anymore. He was tired of feeling.

He could smell the awful stench of burned hair. He wasn't careful enough this time, his hand was trembling too much to hold the lighter in place and had burned some of the hair on his arm.

He didn't need the lighter to torture himself more. There was nothing left to torture. He just needed a physical way of telling himself how disgusted he was at the poor excuse of a human being he'd become. He burned himself because he couldn't stand the thoughts in his head anymore.

Kurt laughed, almost manically, in satisfaction. He imagined how his old self would react to his extracurricular activities. He could picture oh so well, how the boy he sometimes saw in the old pictures would shake his head and lecture him about the damage it did to his skin, the pink hue it gave could be deadly for his skin if he continued.

Well, guess what? Kurt Hummel had died, skin and all, a long time ago. The creature that was left here wasn't Kurt. It was only a poor resemblance of what he'd once been, almost as if to mock universe. He was just a joke a universe was playing on everyone, including himself.

"Kurt Hummel" was the only thing he was barely able to write on the paper the next day and beyond that….nothing. Kurt didn't even try to give an excuse or attempt writing the half-answers he knew. Instead, he put his head on the desk and napped during the whole exam.

Even with his eyes closed he could feel dizziness, as if the room was spinning around him. When was the last time he was able to keep food down? He didn't have the slightest clue. Throwing up had been the only constant thing nowadays.

He started throwing up the day his therapist told him he was insignificant in comparison to the whole universe. The therapist said it would be good for him to keep his expectations low and enjoy the small things in life, while it lasted. Maybe that was her way of telling that Kurt was inconsolable. Broken beyond repair.

The joke's on them. He didn't want his life, his existence to last. It was too much already.

As soon as it was allowed, he walked out of the class in daze and locked himself in his own room. He knew it was his shower day, but he couldn't bring himself to go into all the trouble of undressing and scrubbing himself clean only to get dirty again. It was like his unmade bed. Why should he make it if all he did all day was lie in it and stare at the ceiling? It didn't even have cracks, like his old room had, so Kurt could count them. It just was a...nice white ceiling, without any cracks. So unlike him.


	4. Chapter 4

Kurt didn't want to be the reason somebody stayed up late for him after the curfew. He didn't want to be comforted anymore. He was tired of hearing the same words phrased differently. About how strong he was, about how he tried his best. Because, guess what? Others had it worse and they took what life threw in their way. They didn't even consider flushing the whole deck of cards down the toilet and just say, to hell with all of it.

The worst part was, it was all in his mind. If it was something that could be treated, make him hate himself less. Make the world less empty. But, there wasn't. Not really. If there was, then why did the pills wore off? Why couldn't being happy be his default, like any other careless Dalton students he saw each day?

Kurt thought he was entitled to be a little wimp every now and then. But, now, he was downright moping. Sitting in his room, his curtains closed and not doing anything. Not a damn thing. He lived everyday as if he expected it to end that day. Hoping, even. Sometimes, Kurt thought, he lived as though he'd died already.

When Kurt was in such moods like this, it was a long list of paradoxes. He wanted to be left alone when he was around people but he didn't want to be left alone with only his thoughts to keep him company.

The room was silent and it was slowly driving him crazy. Another sleepless night, another night watching the sky and not even enjoying the view. Oh, what Kurt would give to appreciate the color of sunset. The only thought in his mind was: _gray. _Everything was colored in gray, cold and detached.

He wanted to feel, he didn't want to feel. It was as if he was stuck in the middle. Not unwell enough to let go of anything so he could off himself and not well enough to enjoy a damned thing like a simple sunrise.

Kurt got up and paced the room like a caged animal gnawing at the bars. Nineteen steps. His room took exactly nineteen steps.

Yesterday, he'd tried swallowing a handful of his leftover pills, so he'd feel something, even a simple seizure sounded better than what he was experiencing right now. But, he couldn't even go through that. Swallowing a few pills he knew wouldn't kill him.

And Kurt was expected to be around people while he contemplated not killing himself. He was supposed to give Mercedes fashion advice and be excited for the dinner tomorrow with his family. He was supposed to be the wall of sound the Warblers were so famous for and not even show a single crack.

Kurt walked to the adjoining bathroom and took off his shirt. He sat on the edge of the toilet seat, looking at himself in the mirror in disgust.

Then, suddenly, he got up and turned on the water and put the clog on. Not caring about how unsanitary it was, he pushed his head inside water. He let his mind be filled with only one thought: _oxygen_. And how much he needed it right now. This was his body fighting for life, he should do the same too.

He held on as long as he could, counting the words in monotonous voice inside his head. He was reaching thirty when he pulled up, gasping for air.

He enjoyed feeling like this, fighting with all his body for the simple purpose of living.

The cold water did its best to calm Kurt down. He almost sagged down in front of the sink, panting in relief. He soon dragged himself to the bed and fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

A/N: This is getting too dark and too out of control. Sorry guys.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: There is something quite pleasant in staying in the bed and writing with the phone. I feel like I owe you guys an apology for the previous chapters. I don't know what came over me to write this all of a sudden. Let's just say that my muse sucks and doesn't have limits. Anyway, this story is now rated M. I just feel it would be more suitable.

* * *

It was the good days Kurt was afraid of. Bad days he could almost handle, or he didn't care about how he handled them. But the good days... well, it became too much. They were also painful reminders, in his bad days.

It was morning and he found out he had slept almost well. One moment he'd been staring at the darkness and the next he'd been asleep. He'd been shaken awake by an overexcited Blaine placed on his stomach, who had entered and drawn away the curtains, the sun lighting the room.

"Good morning," he sang cheerfully.

Maybe today would be a good day. Kurt missed have those days.

"Morning," Kurt replied gruffly and attempted to sit up. Blaine scooted away and sat right next to him, clinging on Kurt.

"Slept well?"

"Yeah," Kurt replied, looking away.

See, that's why he hated the good days. Because on bad days, all he would think was how he didn't deserve any of this or how Blaine would react if he knew what was going on in Kurt's mind. Now, he noticed he really needed a shower and Blaine was a little too close and that only made him more nervous.

Blaine didn't leave the room until he showered, dressed and got ready to join him in the cafeteria. He didn't listen to Kurt's protests that today was Saturday and reasoned, "it's blueberry pancakes day, Kurt. Nobody should stay in bed."

Blaine and the others were devouring their pancakes and Kurt was taking small bites of his, a small victory. A scared freshman approached their table. Before Nick and Jeff could stomp their feet and boo that this was juniors only table, he began to talk.

"Mr. Kurt Hummel. The headmaster wants to see you."

Okay, maybe not a good day.

Kurt entered the office, unsure what he should expect.

"Mr. Hummel, Kurt," the headmaster greeted warmly. That's when Kurt noticed there was another figure in the room, sitting on the armchair.

"Dad?" Kurt asked, alarmed.

"Hey there, kiddo," Burt said, a warm smile on his face. When he noticed Kurt was panicking, he hurried to assure him that everything was alright and no one was sick or dying.

Kurt looked back at the headmaster as if to confirm.

"Kurt, we're here to talk about the problems you seem to be having with the academics of this school," he told Kurt sternly. "While your attendance record is perfect, your teachers have been reporting that you lack concentration and barely participate. Obviously we are concerned."

Kurt felt like he couldn't breathe. It was as if a bucket full of cold water had been poured over him.

_Don't tell him about it. Please don't. _

"And your last week's test was less than satisfactory. In fact, all you seemed have written was your name and that's all."

_Shit._

Silence filled the room.

"Guess you didn't want your old man's first visit to your new fancy school be like this, huh?" Burt said awkwardly.

"So this is it. I'm going back to McKinley," Kurt told, struggling to keep his emotions at bay.

"No, that's not the case," the headmaster disagreed, "we just want to know if everything's alright and if there's anything the school can do to make this transfer easier for you. We can have someone tutor you. I believe Mr. Anderson would be a good choice."

Kurt looked away from the two searching gazes in his way.

"I-I just…" Kurt gulped and looked around helplessly.

"What's going on with you, son? Is what the headmaster said true?"

"Dad, am I insignificant?"

There was a stunned silence in the room.

"What do you mean, buddy? I told you not to put all those stuff on your head. It got your brain fried," Burt laughed, even though it was a bit awkward.

"Nothing. Yeah, you're right. I think I'll use the tutor."

When they got out of the office, Burt pulled him to a corner and didn't start talking until Kurt looked him straight in the eye.

"I talked to your therapist."

_Yeah, number one thing you expect your dad to tell you._

"Kurt, is this about how you suddenly stopped treatment?"

"Umm, how did you know?"

"You think I don't read the bills? Well, I do. And I decided to wait and not say anything until you tell me. But then I got this phone from the therapist saying you having been going there for a month. And now this… You gotta give me something here, son."

"I should go. Blueberry pancake…sorry you had to come all the way here. Sorry to ruin your day off," Kurt broke away, stepping away. He calculated the quickest way to his room.

"You're scheduled on Monday. You got a pass for skipping your last class. Don't be late," was the last thing he heard his dad say.

* * *

A/N: So this is it. I think one more chapter and this story will be over. Thanks for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I made a decision to finish the incomplete fics I have before I start writing new ones. So, this is the final chapter of Total Eclipse. Thank you all for sticking with me for this and bearing my craziness.

* * *

_Once upon a time there was light in my life_  
_ But now there's only love in the dark_  
_ Nothing I can say_  
_ A total eclipse of the heart_

_Total Eclipse of the Heart / Bonnie Tyler_

* * *

Kurt's been standing in front of the therapist's office for quite a while now. His nightmares have grown more erratic and his sleep has decreased to the average of barely five hours in two days. After nearly fainting in front of whiteboard when he couldn't figure out the answer to the problem written, he'd been taking better care of his eating habits.

When he enters the room and sits on his usual chair, he expects a hostile response or reprimanding, so it takes him by surprise when his therapist, after shuffling through her papers, gently asks. "Tell me when was the last time you felt happy?"

Kurt digs in his memories and tries to count off the days, before that curtain of sadness wasn't shadowing his every waking moment. His dad's wedding, maybe? But, all he felt at that time was worry that the wedding would somehow mess up. He didn't feel happiness.

It takes a few moments before Kurt shakes his head.

"So, what do you feel when you take a bite of freshly baked biscuit? Or when you drink a hot cup of coffee in a cold weather? Don't you feel a bit of joy?" she asked.

"I can't say it's 'joy' but it's a positive feeling."

"You should feel joy. You shouldn't wait for a big event to happen and then you'll be happy. Expecting so much of yourself is the reason why you're unable to feel happy."

"But, I should expect more than this. I mean, that's all I have left," Kurt disagrees, looking down.

"It's not bad to have ambitions. But also, you should focus on the little things, like tasting something new that you like, a nice smell or scenery."

"I don't know how that's going to help me get through _this_," he says, referring to the mess his life has become.

"Kurt, I'm going to be honest with you. You've been depressed for quite a while now. And right now, your outlook on life and yourself is affected by it."

"I don't understand," he frowns.

"A happy person wakes up and he feels like 'today's going to be a great day'. But, someone like you…" she trails off.

"I have to change my glasses," Kurt concludes and the therapist nods.

"Feelings can spread faster than a virus. So, I suggest, or maybe prescribe for you to hang out with people that have a bright attitude towards life. Do you know such person?"

_Finn._

_Tina._

_Blaine._

"I do," Kurt nods.

"Now, Kurt. I don't encourage that you went off on your pills without any consulting."

"They weren't helping. I felt worse when the effects wore off."

"Maybe you could let me know and I could change the brand. Because that's why I'm here for you."

When Kurt stayed silent, she continued, "I'm going to prescribe some other brand and I want you to try them. Can you do that?"

Kurt nods, he didn't think that it might help, but what other choice did he have, really.

"Anything else you'd like to tell? Questions?"

Kurt pinches his arm between his fingers, feeling the burn, but shakes his head.

Maybe things could get better, Kurt thinks as he gets out, juggling the prescription in one hand. He holds his phone in the other hand, his finger wanders on the call button.

"Blaine? Hi, can we meet at Lima Bean. There's something I gotta tell you."


End file.
